'I live in a space inside my head,a cluttered space crammed with random thoughts about life, love and the struggle of being a 27yr old african woman trying to 'find' herself but losing her self in the process.I always vowed when I was growing up that I would do things differently from my mother. As the years have gone by I find myself modelling my life on the woman I thought I wasn't strong enough to become,'(If you ever have the chance to meet my mother even once, to be given the chance to be half the woman my mother is, you will know that you have been truly blessed) Finally I have had to embrace the fact, that I'm nothing but My Mother's Child....

Friday, November 27, 2009

The Best Porn is live Porn........

*long post alert* Me and Erica are no longer friends, In fact to be grammatically precise Erica and I are no longer friends and if you ask me it was completely her fault lol. It was a very good idea at first, as good as any idea formulated after 4 bottles of wine and several vodka shots can be. It was very generous of me as her best friend to offer practical support, for what good is emotional support in a financial crisis, being there for someone doesnt pay the rent? Well it was a different sort of practical support, actually it was medical support slash free porn slash whatever. As you all know I have done quite a lot of idiotic stuff in the past if this post is anything to go by and this is one of those incidents i like to pretend never happened lol.

I remember the day so well, Erica and I were having a serious heart to heart (bad mistake since we were already under the influence of 36 units of alcohol between us which. It was her fault for starting the conversation. She said her new boyfriend makes freakish downright strange noises during sex which sound alien and totally freaked her out. I asked her what she meant and she tried to imitate them but she has always been a bad actress. So being under the influence of 36 units of alcohol she said 'wait a minute I have a brilliant idea, next time we are at it why don't you come and watch?' Not being sure what she meant I asked how this supposedly brilliant idea might be accomplished. Well she said, you know how i like having sex in the dark? I replied 'ah-ah' 'Well' she went on 'let me call him to come over and I will leave the door slightly open and you can listen in and give your honest opinion' I nodded eagerly too drunk for words at this point to use common sense. The more bizarre the idea got the more interested I became. I mean I'm not a pervert or a freak or a sexual deviant, I was really really really really concerned about my best friends sexual well being, if she thought she was 'doing' an undercover alien, it was my job as the supposed best friend to allay her fears or confirm them..right???? after all friends are supposed to be there for each other in sickness and alien sex....right??? (y'all know I'm right).

One hour later he was on his way to her place, she made me creep into the dark wardrobe leaving the door slightly ajar so that i couldn't miss any of the star wars sound effects lol. I think i waited an uncomfortable hour or two for the show to begin, wedged between winter coats that had seen better days and enough smelly shoes to open an up market charity shop, it was the most uncomfortable squatting position ever (it beat squatting in a pit latrine in the village during one of those parent enforced trips where you were forced to go to the village and play the dutiful town grand daughter once a year during a public holiday lol) but what can i say I'm a good and loyal friend lol so i dutifully sat in the wardrobe numb with cramp in my left leg, fervently praying that after this ordeal was over my leg wouldn't have to be amputated due to circulation cut off. fast forward 10 mins later.She over performed coz she knew I was there, he in turn under performed because he didn't know they had an audience. From the thumps,bumps and window rattling moves coming from the bed i knew i was in for a show to rival any porn version of the Oscar winning musical Chicago.

Twenty seconds later the noises began, ssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii tiiiiiiiiiii eeeeeeeeee eeeh eeeh eeeh mayweeeeeeeeee mayweeeeeeeeeee yuwiiiiiiiiiiiiii yuwiiiiiiiiiii, siiiiiiiiiiiiii I thought WTF is that a mobile phone ringtone? Then I realised hell no the sounds were coming from the bed, maybe the dude was trying to recite the alphabet, fcuk this was worse than a star wars sound track, the kind of moise that would make you run for you life if you were walking past a cemetery in the middle of the night (serves you right though if you actually walk past a cemetery in the middle of the night lol). Seriously fro the eh eh eh's emanating from the bed at one point i thought Erica with her 18 stone body frame was trying to send the dude to an early death, he sounded like he was gasping for air, choking in pain not in pleasure, before I could put on my spider woman cloak and attempt a rescue op from the wardrobe lol a muted 'dont stop' re-assured me that he delighted in that sort of thing (what ever it is she was doing lol). After a few more yuwiiiiiiii's and eeehhhhhhs and the final curtain call I realised I had a new dilemma....... how the fcuk was i going to exit the wardrobe if he was planning to stay the night?

My supposedly best friend had forgotten all about me getting increasingly uncomfortable in the damn wardrobe, i realised that the trip to the ER to get my leg amputated was fast becoming a reality. I tried to shift and change position but that's quite hard to do when you are sharing closet space with smelly shoes, a dozen coats and several boxes of God knows what. It didn't help that the alcohol was wearing off and i really felt like i wanted to be sick. I debated what was worse vomiting in her 20 odd pairs of smelly designer shoes or making an exit from my hiding space and having to do a lot of explaining. I didnt have to wonder for long, that decision was completely taken away from me. I'm not sure what exactly took place, if I was still friends with Erica perhaps she would have clarified the correct version of events. I remember something brushing against my neck, it might have been a coat belt,or a spider or one of the numerous scarfs in that wardrobe, but my intoxicated mind immediately thought black widow spider and i let out a blood curdling scream and tumbled out of the wardrobe.I think I heard someone from the bed shouting ' who the fuck is that but i couldn't be sure. All i knew was a spider was trying to eat me alive and i had to get out of there pronto plus i didnt want to wait around to make any explanation to Mr alien sounds, how could i even begin to explain? so i bolted and i left Erica to sing a few notes of Usher's 'this is my confession. ' on our behalf.

what happened after that I never really found out,like i said Erica and I are no longer friends. She called me a couple of nights after that begging that i call her boyfriend (who she was now referring to as the love of her life man of her dreams slash soul mate, the girl had amnesia it was less than 72 hours ago when he had been Mr alien sounding dude from star wars and she was getting ready to dump him but like i said the girl had amnesia.) anyway she demanded that a)I call her boyfriend and b) state that it was all my fault i had planned the whole thing and c)that she didnt know i had been holed up in the wardrobe. Now i can and WILL do a lot of sh*t for a friend, lend a 100 quid here and there, babysit you when you are sick etc but I'm not one to take a bullet for someone else, I flatly refused reminding her that a) it had not been all my fault and b) I had not planned it and c) she damn well knew i had been holed up in that closet. Erica hurled a lot of abuse and i hurled my own abuse. when the phone was slammed down it was then i knew that Erica and I were no longer friends. Its been 8 years now and I have done a lot of growing up since then but I wonder sometimes what happened to them or more importantly what happened to her for we went back a long way almost sisters, I live in constant fear of mama finding out the real reason we are no longer friends, I guess the worst porn is live porn if you are hiding in someones closet to watch it.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

I really really R.E.A.L.L.Y love my Mama (honestly)

I know I haven't been here in a while I blame google for making me choose a password I completely forgot and I blame my mama too. Speaking of which.....If you were to ask me how I feel about my mama, I would probably rattle off the politically correct answer “shes my best friend”, “on her i can depend always”, “the one I trust”, I would die for her blah blah blah and if I'm really and truly under the influence (we talking 40% alcohol here not ‘no added sugar’ pineapple cordial lol) I might add that vomit inducing quote............ “if i could change a thing about you mama I wouldnt’t change a single thing blah blah blah ”. you get the drift right? All lies i tell you, First of all if you are new to my blog, before you get all judgemental up in here, let me break a few things down to you about mama. She is NOT my best friend, in fact she is not my friend period! She is just mama, not a pal, not a mate not a bff but just mama. Before you get judgemental (again)the feeling is absolutely mutual, she often screams (and this is a direct quote minus the loud booming voice) “Ms DM don't play with me I'm not your friend ooh, play with someone your age, or else i will tattoo that behind ooh” (see it doesn't get more mutual than this lol.)

As for not changing a thing, boy who am i kidding. Trust me if I had the chance I would (for those living in the UK) property-ladder, grand design, home improve ( or whatever makeover programme is out there) tweak my mama. Gone will be the Shambock wielding woman who dances dangerously close to a culpable homicide charge when she tries to put you on the straight and narrow. Trust me when mama is done with you you will be more bent and crooked than the time she began working on your mother literally loves me with a vengeance lol. My relationship with mama is like travelling on a budget no frills airline. It generally does what it is supposed to do but once in a while it surprises you with a whole lot of nasty shocks, like £20 for airport check in, £10 per bag for hold luggage, and another £5 for paying by credit/debit card. Mama is sneaky like that, you constantly feel like you’ve been punked least with easy-jet/ bmi/ryanair its all in the small print, with mama she makes the rules as she goes on like a typical African dictator, nah forget it there is nothing remotely typical about my mama lol.

As for dying for mama, if truth be told that's definitely a moot point. If a gun tooting yob was pointing his weapon of mass destruction (a gun people lol) at me and mama and says ‘hey you two decide who we kiss es-ta lavista baby to’ I'm not sure that like a loyal and loving daughter i would necessarily volunteer my self for this virtuous deed. Call me Judas Iscariot or morbid but seriously speaking wouldn't it make more sense morally and all for mama to be the sacrificial lamb? I mean shes been there done that and wore the t-shirt until it turned from white to grey with age lol, shes had the husband, the jet setting lifestyle, the six figure salary and 4 children who haven't turned out half bad (yes me included lol). It would be quite selfish I would think if she refused to be the Isaac to my Abraham ( any non Christians see me).

Speaking of “the one i would trust/ depend on” it would only be in a life or death situation like plucking me from a burning house, or dragging me from under a bus for anything else hmmmm she would totally betray me even without the prospect of financial gain Ala Judas Iscariot. My mother would be the first to ask the head to expel you from school for indecent exposure(never mind that the ‘indecent exposure’ consisted of letting your first junior high school boyfriend have a peak at your budding nipple-less mini boobs during PE lol (no that wasn't me thankfully it was my sister from the same mama and if you are in doubt check her behind for the evidence.......its called death by shambock lol).I wont pretend (like many of you do lol) that I'm best friends with mama. Rue my real best friend who is no relation what so ever to mama is the one I tell all about my secret fantasy about Dr Black our family GP who at 49 is nearly twice my age, the one I disclose the drunken snog with a random stranger, the one i give a no holds barred account of my lucky escape from a potential 3 someone after a game of truth or dare, Rue the one best friend is the only one I would be brave enough to tell about my hot secret date with my mama’s personal assistant. See telling a real best friend like Rue has no repercussions, she would probably hoot with laughter and trade my stories with her own kinky, dirty, often slutty ones which border on illegal lol . Now that's a true best female friend. Now my mama who is NOT my best friend would literally castrate me if i tried to confess to such sh*t (Thank God shes not my best friend and I don't have a d**k lol). But she would definitely hurl me in front of the local priest so that he could baptise such demonic behaviour out of me......I ain't no psychologist but clearly this is not Best Friend behaviour lol.

Disclaimer (Just in case mama is lurking somewhere in Blogsphere lol). Now Mama you know better than to believe everything you read especially from an amateur blog which fewer than 5 people ever read . You know you and I are much closer than the 3000miles currently between us. I love you mama and that's not only on mothers day. I really really really really really really really R.E.A.L.L.Y do, so don't you dare let anyway slash any blog (this one included ) convince you otherwise lol. Its been too long Blogsvile I,ve missed you all.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

How to Ruin a Good Vacation .............

.........Vacation with my mother!!! There I said it and I'm not taking it back. (unless my mama reads this statement,then this blog will have to come down with the speed of light. I might be an independent strong black blah blah blah woman but my mama is even stronger and even at twenty seven I still meet the criteria for being walloped to death lol). Okay so I'm back, scarred, bruised and heavily traumatised but back all the same. Who wouldn't be(scarred,bruised and heavily traumatised)after spending four weeks in the captivity of my mother? (disclaimer: this statement might have to be deleted at the speed of light lol)Seriously my mother has the energy, the intelligence and superhuman five senses that are sharp enough to sap the joy out of any good vacation. By 'joy' I mean men,nightlife and more men.

But having said that I had an amazing holiday. So much to tell and so very little time, but if one word sums up my SA holiday it would be SEX or lack of it but wait 'lack of it' is actually 3 words so SEX it is. Not that I'm confessing to having had any, how could I? My mother not only preaches abstinence but she damn well insures it is practiced with the ruthlessness of an African dictator. My mother is up there with the Hitchcock's or Mafia of the abstinence world. I swear she can detect the tiniest threat of sexual activity before you can even say the words bum skimming shorts or micro mini. Which is a shame, there is no point to having sexy legs if you cant put said sexy legs on display. My mother hypocritically states that thighs should be reserved for the eyes of a husband, but with the same mouth she tells my sister 'what kind of married woman wears such a thing' (thing in this instance standing for very tight micro shorts which ironically she was wearing for a night out with her husband at some random beach party. Clearly there is no pleasing some people ('some people' here completely refers to my mother lol).

Speaking of husbands, my mother hijacked my brand new sinfully expensive (according to my ever expanding overdraft lol) Christian Lacroix nightie (if you could call the flimsy material that). She claims I don't need any sexy nightwear, I don't have a husband. (*deep sigh* 'mum I do have sex you know', ) (Disclaimer: I did not say this out loud to my mothers face, I'm still young, I do not want to die, in fact I would rather let you cut me up into a million pieces or skin me to death than die at the hands of my mother). Apparently I'm not deserving of any sexy lingerie but she is, she did not have the decency to refund me my money, I did not have the suicidal nerve to ask for it. I refuse to imagine what she possibly got up to, or is getting up to in it. I do not want to be permanently emotionally scarred, but i am boycotting Christian L for life, I could never wear it again without having mental images I don't want to ever have, so future potential boyfriends please take notes.

Its a truth universally acknowledged that the sole purpose of going on a foreign holiday is to have sex with a foreign man (or depending on how adventurous you feeling, have sex with foreign men plural) . A safari or two might also be on the agenda, you might be suicidal enough to try bungee jumping or sky diving but ultimately nothing beats having sex with said foreign man. Okay i made that up, but whats the point of going on holiday if sex is not on your 'To do List' ? Speaking of sex, i dont normally kiss and tell but the most important lesson i learnt whilst in Mzansi (SA) was that if you intend on having 'sex on the beach' for maximum comfort buy a beach house, or more practicably have sex with a rich foreign man who already owns a beach house unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday removing sand from your down belows lol.

So I'm not sure if I managed to meet Buttercup(big sigh). I met a street hawker called Mercy (originally from Zimbabwe,but not a relation or acquaintance of Shona's lol) selling vhuka vhuka which she informed me is some kind of p*nis enlargement herbal sh*t, but she denied being responsible for those thoroughly annoying spam emails that fill up my junk folder stating 'Dear Miss DM would you like to enlarge your penis blah blah blah...' Coincidentally I also met a street hooker called Obianujuaku (yes I did ask her to write down the spelling). Apparently her name means 'born to plenty' or 'born to a rich family'. (obviously not that rich if she is plying her feminine wares in the dark alleys of Cape Town). Speaking of Obi I've just has a thought...buttercup I hope that wasn't you lol.

Speaking of hookers I also met a money guzzling, fame hungry,man eating gold digga who was heavily disguised as my brother's girlfriend (lol my mother's words not mine). She loves my mother with the passion of a girl who fears she might be left off the shelf and knows that the way to my brothers heart is through my mother and of course his wallet. My mother in turn treats her with so much contempt, I cant remember my mother disliking anyone so intensely or with so much passion....actually I do, my brother's previously girlfriend who foolishly informed my mother she was 'a non believer'. My mother was incredulous I think little miss non believer holds the Guinness world book record for being thrown out of a house at the speed of lightning.

I've been blubbering non stop, you see I missed you guys,its certainly good to be back to civilisation (by civilisation I mean any place away from my mother know I love you mama.)

Friday, May 15, 2009

The Cow jumped over the moon.............

in the words of R Kelly.....

My mind is telling me NO!!!!!!

But my Body is screaming yes yessss yesssssss yes oh yesssss!!!!!!!!

So I'm off to the sunny sometimes cloudy skies of Cape Town and Joburg for a fortnight
to clear the cloudy seeds of doubt.
And when im back, maybe that cow would have jumped over the moon and became a dog,
but if it insists on being called a cow, you might as well line up with your buckets for free semi skimmed milk, coz we gonna milk this cow dry lol!!!!

Buttercup if you meet any drop dead gorgeous sexy intelligent, hot fabalous ******insert any other discription for a bombshell***** skinny bitch, ask for her autograph coz that could definitely be your very own Miss DM. lol

Thursday, April 30, 2009

9 Days Celibate and still Counting.........

My celibacy count is back down to a mere 9 days. Don't even know if that still counts as being 'celibate' I miss being celibate (insert big sigh)I miss feeling so self righteous amongst my rampant friends like i belonged to some elite stuffy boring uppity club, wish I had made him just put the 'head' in lol so i could technically still be a celibate non condom buying so and so.

Speaking of condoms God are they so dear.....hmmmmm there is something oddly unsettling about mentioning God and condoms in the same sentence, but seriously last time i bought condoms they cost 20 cents came in one shape, one colour and had the same latex taste lol. I bought my first condoms at 11.....from my brother aged 6 who had stolen them from my mother aged...... well dunno how old she was but my behind was certainly a few years older than me when she was done with it. She kept shouting 'show me where it goes!!!' whilst beating the living daylights out of me. I become permanently scarred, whenever I'm buying condoms my heart is always almost about to leap out of my chest, like she will suddenly leap out from the checkout counter shouting 'show me where it goes!!!' if you know my mama please advise her not to try it though coz i might just.......just...just be brave enough to lift up my skirts and defiantly shout, 'it goes in here mum, its definitely been in here!!!'.

So me and him are having 'a thing'. I hate having 'a thing' with a dude. You know that indescribable confusing stage where you have moved past the point of being casual lays, (we speak on the phone all the time for hours on end, he is the only person I can bare my soul to, and he tells me he loves me and wants to be only with me ) but for reasons best known to myself I absolutely refuse to classify what we 'have' as a relationship so ' a thing' it is. 'Things ' are supposed to be less complicated, I used the word supposed coz they are in reality a whole lot complicated and messy. What is 'a thing?'. Does it give you a licence to diversify your man portfolio? legitimately I can always do another thingy on the side after all ' we are just having a thing' right? Is a relationship a relationship because you have that conversation where you agree to be exclusive and actually say yeah we are now in a relationship, or is it the case of if it looks like a dog, barks like a dog and lives in a Kennel then it is a dog even if it calls itself a cow? if I'm to keep my sanity 'we' can not be in a dog, I insist that what we have is a cow, a non milk producing, barking, kennel sleeping, dog look alike but I insist its a cow nonetheless.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Sexclaus is coming to town .............

Just so you know

Sexclaus is coming to town

and when he does,

he is soooooooo going down my chimney

not once, not thrice, but over and over again


lets do the maths........

fcuking my brains out = Sex

going down my 'chimney', deliverin' my goodies and making my christmas come early = Claus

so Sexclaus

Johhny Teabag upstairs aint got shit on you.

so bye bye Pink Rabbit

The End of 389 days of celibacy.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Who Ate All the weight loss Pills Pies .........

Siren blazing, lights flashing, travelling at an almost suicidal speed, the car swerved from lane to lane, onto on coming traffic, past red traffic lights, zig zagging into the bus lanes and down one way streets, you would be forgiven for mistaking this as a scene from the latest Bond/Bourne movie, but it wasn't, if it had been a movie scene it would have been aptly titled 'Ms DM's almost fatal attempt to be a size zero'.... and it was...almost fatal...when I was admitted into the emergency department temperature at 38, my circus qualifying abnormally big head almost twice its normal abnormal size, breathing through non invasive ventilation, my life, actually to be exact my last 397 sex free days flashed through my mind and I had only one regret on my death bed, 'I should have fc*ked Johnny from upstairs brains out when I had the chance.'

At that very moment even though I felt I was dying, I would have given up the last three, four or seven hours I had left to live to have Johnny my tea bag borrowing upstairs neighbour appear in that A&E assessment ward and give me a mind blowing orgasmic send off into the 'other side'/ pearly gates. seriously as I lay nearly dying from dodgy weight loss pills bought off eBay all i could think about was 'God just one last chance to have sex' (in case you are wondering in my 26years I have already spent an average of 45 Sabbaths a year praying for my salvation so it would be have been only fair to spend the remaining few hours of my life focusing solely on sexual gratification lol).

After being humiliated and cheated out of a chance to bag 'the most eligible, noodle serving, pot bellied, Bugatti driving, sugar daddy on the block' by the Skinny-Bitch I vowed to join the size zero skinny bitches brigade, come doughnuts, lattes, cheese laden pastas, rich chocolate desserts, hail or sunshine. First research pit stop was the gastric bypass, (feel free to judge me all the heck you want lol) I am one for efficiency (working in billable hours does that sort of thing to you) I figured one better way to propel myself to Bugatti sugar daddy snatching size zero than getting my intestines nipped and tucked in Harley street? Besides, the fact that it was only two days after payday meant that the bank manager would happily give me the green light. But i found out the hard way that forget the disabled, gender inequalities, ethnic minority racial discrimination,bias against lesbians/bisexuals etc the world totally discriminates against those of us unfortunate enough not to be too thin and not too curvy either. Apparently no self respecting intestine nipping and tucking surgeon will touch anyone with a body fat mass index of less than 22, their excuse being its dangerous à la Kanye West mum's style hence totally unethical.

Undeterred I turned to the diet pills market, this was the point that the grim rippers clock must have started tick toking in my direction Final Destination style lol. In my defence the gym membership was not helping much, after religiously going to the gym four times a week and huffing and puffing nearly spitting my liver out on the treadmill, i was horrified to learn that i had gained 3lbs. the personal trainer had the nerve to try and spin a web of lies about muscle mass being heavier than fat blah dee blah n*gga purlizzzzzzzz that motivational sh*t don't wash on me, I mean its not as if I'm already spotting a six pack (yeah LLCoolJ always has me at Hello). Now my gym ought to be sued, whats with the sabotaging, situating the fitness suite right next to the drive through McDonald's and LaTasca(Italian restaurant), as I'm huffing and puffing on the treadmill the smell of freshly cooked pasta carbonara and big macs wafts through the room, plus you get discount vouchers for both restaurants as part of your gym membership WTF?????? You burn 400 calories on the treadmill and then afterwards pass through LaTasca and devour 1200 calories disguised as Pasta Carbonara (add 450 more calories if you have chocolate fudge cake as dessert), its a no brain-er so personal training so and so should cut the crap about muscle mass being heavier than fat, unless the other name for muscle mass is pasta carbonara lol.

So you know who your true enemies are when you ask a 'friend' to recommend certain diet pills that can fast forward you to skinnybitchness and she directs you to an Internet site. She swore the sh*t came highly recommended, was 100% legit and even endorsed by celebrities (yeah should have asked which ones, OJ Simpson???). Son or rather more aptly daughter of a b*tch nearly sent me to an early grave, without giving me the opportunity to get my brains sh*gged senseless by tea bag borrowing Johnny from down the stairs. I parted with nearly £183 for the sh*t (hey in my defense I'm sure that when i had successfully bagged Bugatti Veyron sugar daddy he would have spent x1000 that amount on 'keeping me happy' lol). The sh*t (sorry there is no politer word to describe the death pills that nearly killed me) even came with a guarantee that if you didn't loose 7lbs in the first week you would get your money back (conveniently the corresponding address was a P. Box number, now don't quote me on this but i need to recheck Vera's P.O Box number, girl could be the one who tried to grim reaper my ass lol). To cut a long story short, I took the first three tablets and in less than two hours my head had swelled up to twice its normal size, my heart was beating off the Richter scale of heartbeats, my whole body had a sinister looking purplish rash and i was badly swollen as if i had been rihanned by a team of 12 Chris Browns, I couldn't breathe my airways were closing up, in short that sh*t was killing me, thus i found myself on the way to the emergency department in an ambulance, wishing to God I had shagged tea bag borrowing Johnny from upstairs when I had the chance.

8 days later I'm now back home, recovering ( as if you could ever recover from such an ordeal) thanks Tigeress for checking up on me whilst I was in hospital, as for the rest of you Judas Iscariot's who never checked up on me, I hope you choke on a batch of the diet sh*t that nearly killed me. Seriously never ever buy pills off the Internet, I learnt my lesson the death bed way.........but thanks to eight days of horrible hospital 'food' (slimy mashed potatoes and mince meat which had a suspicious sardine like odour) I'm now firmly on my way to earning my Skinny Bitch club platinum pass lol so forget sh*gging Johnny from upstairs coz Bugatti Driving, noodle serving, pot belled Sugar Daddy here I come!!!!!!.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

'Wallop me Mama for I have sinned'......

I was awarded the 'honest scrap award by Poeticallytinted. (see bottom of post for a picture of the award which Poeticallytinted gave me because she thinks my blog’s content or design is brilliant (ha ha ha how can I not be bigheaded when I literally have a big head). Thank you so much PT for showing my blog some love, unfortunately since there are no interesting facts about Ms DM, instead of the 'ten honest things about me' I have decided to do a post on ten 'sins' I have honestly been walloped for by my mama 'the queen of corporal punishments'.

10 honest sins things about me that I have been walloped for

1. I nearly got expelled from Primary school aged 7 for writing an explicit letter with hand drawn pornographic images. My mother has never forgotten this and she tattoed scars on my behind so that neither would I.

2.I once got my mother to fire a new housegirl because she had too many pimples on her face and i refused to eat what she cooked. My father concerned that I was not eating got my mother to fire her. my mother walloped me in my father's abscence for being shallow then turned me into the 'housegirl' for the remainder of the school holidays.

3. My brother who was aged 7 at the time once got me (at age 13) to electrocute myself on a socket claiming that it would feel 'nice'. My mother tatooed his behind, his face and his back in her expert effortless fashion, screaming 'is this nice?' over and over again.Then tattoed my behind for being foolish enough at 13 to listen to a 7year old boy and nearly getting myself killed in the process.

4. I was once 'chucked out' of our local church together with my aunt for being 'inapporpriately dressed in miniskirts. My mother cleared all our wardrobes and threw away anything that was 'above the knees.' which loosely translated means 'she left us with no clothes that were not trousers, jeans or school uniforms.

5.My mother once made me and my cousin sleep (nearly the whole night)outside our front gate in a hailstorm for going on a date with a guy at the same restauramt that she happened to be at for a business lunch. After being made to sleep outside we were still walloped the next morning.

6. My mother once made me and my sister shambock each other (nearly to death) for her entertainment (not strictly true but painfully accurate). We had gone to our nieghbours house and ate dinner there (because it was chicken and rice) and we were sick of the vegetarian (sabbath) saturdays at my house. Stupidly we had arrived home with 'rice and chicken' stains on our clothes.

7. I once 'shared' a man with my cousin because she was not convinved I was telling the truth when I said that he was a very good kisser and an expert at 'touching' up a woman that I agreed to let her 'expierence' it for herself. My brother told my mother and she walloped me and my cousin for 'trying to run a prostitution ring in her compound.

8.On holiday at my grandmothers I once wrote a letter to my father complaining bitterly about her alleged (false) cruel treatment of us (my brother and I)so that my parents could come pick us up. My mother brought my grandmother the letter, read it out loud in front of her and several other people and still left me in her care.....the treatment became accurately cruel (and not false) for the duration of that holiday.

9. In kindergaten I once stole and eat another child's lunch of jallof rice....and was caught. My mother cooked two big pots of jallof rice and demanded that I finish them or else she would wallop me. I finished them.....she still walloped me expertly.

10. When still at nursery I was so ashamed of an uncle of mine that my mother had asked to drop me at school (because he had a beard and had also just arrived from the village) that i lied to him that 'adults' were not allowed on the school premises and asked him to drop me round the corner. The teacher sent my mother a letter asking why I had arrived at nursery unaccompanied. My mother (after asking said uncle why he had not taken me straight into my nursery class and he told her what I had said to him) realised what I had done and walloped me for being ashamed of my relatives.

As i am incredibly selfish and want to hold on to the award lazy I will bend the rules of the award by not list seven blogs I find brilliant because every blog on my blog list and (those that i have ever read/commented on) are brilliant. However I will tag the first person to comment on this post to write thier own 'ten sins I have committed' post.